The Speech
by WuHaoNi
Summary: Ron proposes to Hermione. Chaos ensues.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

* * *

"It's Fenderhagen," Hermione corrected absently.

"What?"

"You're pronouncing it wrong," she said with a trace of impatience, glancing up from her book. "It's Fenderhagen, not Federnhaggen."

Ron reddened with anger, halting in his planned speech. Sometimes she could be so infuriating. Here he was reciting Hogwarts a History to the woman he loved, trying to bloody propose to her and all she would do is correct him! It was a good thing that he had given a pep talk to himself before this or he would've broken down completely.

Why am I proposing to her again? I forgot in light of her insufferableness. Right, you love her, he told himself sternly. So do this right or you're going to have to do it all over again next week. Oh, the hell with it. I'll just skip to the good part. 

"And so, Helga Hufflepuff said, "Hermione will you marry me?"

He stopped, heart beating so fast he thought he would faint. _This is it,_ he told himself. _No going back. You're either going to get married or hexed. _Ron licked his lips nervously, and exhaled sharply, watching his hopefully-fiancé's every move.

But Hermione did nothing. She stayed hunched over her book, a suspicious lack of movement the only sign that she had heard him.

"Hermi-one…?" he ventured nervously, his voice cracking embarrassingly in the middle of her name. "Did you hear me?"

Hermione started shaking, and a high, keening sound erupted as she buried her face in her overlarge textbook.

Panicked, Ron ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. He tried to move, but it was if his feet were stuck to the floor with a Permanent Sticking Charm. He watched, trapped, as Hermione sobbed her heart out to Wizard and Goblin Relations during the 17th Century.

_You made her cry. You proposed to her and you made her cry! What kind of guy _does_ that? She's supposed to be happy. You can't do anything right. Say something! SAY SOMETHNG!_

About to lose his head completely, Ron blurted out, "I'm sorry! I take it back. I don't want you to marry me! I un-propose to you! Wait, no, that's not what I meant! Please don't cry!"

Hermione lifted her head up, a strand of hair sticking to her red, blotchy face. "You un-propose to me?" she asked, lip quivering. "You mean you _don't_ want me to marry you??"

And she promptly buried her face back into the book, breaking into fresh sobs of anguish.

"NO!" Ron shouted, alarmed. "I do want to marry you! I just don't want to make you cry."

"Well, it's a little late for that, isn't it?" A familiar, amused voice floated out into the living room.

The stranger leaned in the doorway of Ron and Hermione's flat, clearly entertained by the sight in front of him. A grin flitted around the corners of his mouth, and his green eyes twinkled behind oval glasses.

Ron turned around quickly, hope lighting up his face the moment he caught glimpse of his best friend. "Oh, Harry, thank Merlin. You've got to help me! I screwed it up! She's…" He gestured wildly to his girlfriend, arms moving like windmills. "…gone completely mental!"

"_I'm_ mental?" Hermione raised her head for the second time, a furious look on her tearstained face. "_You're_ the one who can't decide whether or not he wants to marry me! Excuse me if I'm feeling a bit upset!"

"She's got a point, mate," Harry conceded.

He crossed the room quickly, long legs eating up the carpet with remarkable speed. Harry placed a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Did you at least finish the speech?"

"No," Ron said miserably, sinking down onto the nearest loveseat. "I got to the part about Helga Hufflepuff, and decided to wing it. Just goes to show what a bad idea _that_ was."

"Got to stick to the game plan," said Harry mock solemnly, trying not to laugh.

"Right. I'll remember that for next time."

"Next time?" Hermione said agitatedly, leaping to her feet. "How many times are we going to go through this, Ron? I can't take this much stress. We either do it tonight or you can forget about proposing. Unless there's some other witch you'd rather marry!"

"No," said Ron, horrified. "I just meant-"

"Never mind," replied Hermione, holding up a hand. She straightened and brushed her hair back from her face, composing herself. "Go on, then. Propose to me."

"Now?" asked Ron, aghast. "But the mood's ruined! And I can't do the speech in front of Harry."

"What are you going on about? You were practicing your speech on me the other day!"

"That's different," said Ron in a dignified tone of voice. "I mean it this time!"

"And you didn't mean it the other time?" Hermione asked severely, narrowing her eyes.

Ron threw his arms up in the air. _Why does everything have to be so bloody hard for me?_

"Okay, that's it. Harry, out of the room." He shot his best friend a meaningful look.

Muttering to himself, Harry stalked to the door and Apparated.

Ron took a deep breath and dug into his robes, pulling out a tiny, battered black box.

"I've been carrying this around for _ages_," he said with a smile, keeling down in front of her. "Took me all of a year to pay for this baby."

"Ron," Hermione chided him gently. "You shouldn't have. I'd be happy with something small."

He shrugged casually, happy with the approbation. "I know. But I wanted this to be special. Okay, ready?"

Hermione beamed, nodding eagerly. She extended her hand, and Ron took it, kissing the knuckles tenderly.

"Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she breathed, eyes welling up with tears again.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief, and grappled briefly with the box, his hands slick with sweat.

It was empty.

He toppled over in disbelief, stunned into shock. Gaping, he stared into the empty stomach of the Jerid Jewler's box; certain someone was playing a cruel joke on him. This couldn't be happening! This _wasn't_ happening!

Hermione peered at him, sensing something was wrong. "Ron, are you okay?"

A croaking noise emitted from his throat as he attempted to convey his shock.

"I-I-" he stuttered.

"You know, now's when you're supposed to put the ring on my finger," she said playfully.

"I can't," Ron muttered.

She frowned, perplexed. "What do you mean you can't? Are you incapable of movement?"

"I lost the ring," Ron whispered, looking dismayed at his own incompetence.

"That's it?" Hermione said, relieved. "Just use a Summoning Charm. I was expecting something worse."

"What could be worse than losing a ring, Hermione?"

He sat up, a dejected look on his stricken face. "I screwed up my proposal. I lost your ring. I think it's a sign that we're not supposed to be married."

"Don't say that!" she said fiercely, kneeling beside him. "You haven't believed in Divination for years. I see no reason why you should start now."

"I'm going to be a horrible husband," said Ron in a low voice. He closed his eyes, and flopped backwards onto the carpet. "Oh, Merlin, what have I gotten you into?"

"You haven't have gotten me into anything until we find that ring!" Hermione replied sternly, pulling out her wand in a businesslike manner. "_Accio_engagement ring."

"Won't work," said Ron moodily, pulling at a stray thread on his dress robes. "It has anti-burglary charms on it. Can't be Summoned."

"Well, we'll just have to find a way around that, won't we," Hermione said stubbornly, a mulish look on her determined face. "In the meantime, I want you to try to stay positive. We'll find it."

"I doubt it," Ron muttered darkly to the floor. "Don't bother, Hermione. I'll just get you a new one."

"I like the one you got me originally," she countered defiantly, hands on her hips.

"You haven't even seen it!" he protested. "It's much easier to pretend this never happened and for me to get another ring."

"You'd rather have it easier than make me happy?" said Hermione, baiting him.

"No…no…no," he replied hastily. "That's not what I meant! Merlin, why is this so hard? Is it this hard for Ginny and Harry?"

"We're not Ginny and Harry; we're Ron and Hermione," said Hermione quietly. "And it's hard for everyone. We all have problems. Some of us have more than others."

Ron snorted, making the empty box zoom around the room with his wand. "You got that right."

"I wasn't talking about us, actually. I was talking about George and Angelina."

Ron swallowed. The box dropped abruptly, and toppled with a crash onto the fireplace mantel.

"Oh," he said softly.

The fragments of a smashed vase lay among the remains of an antique wooden box and several photographs of Hermione's Muggle family.

Hermione sighed._Should've known better than to mention George._

Such incidences were common occurrences around the flat. Any talk about George and Angelina was usually met with Ron breaking whatever he held in his hands. It had been six years since the Battle of Hogwarts, but Fred's death was still painful. The couple had just started dating a mere 3 weeks ago, and were already having problems getting past the "dead twin" barrier.

Resignedly, she squatted down and sorted through the broken frames. _I'm going to have to charm these unbreakable_, Hermione thought wryly. _I can't keep repairing them all the time._

A silver glint caught her eye, and she pulled a small, grimy ring out from the rubble.

_What on Earth—?__It couldn't be. Is it?_

"_Scrougify!" _she said, her voice trembling.

The Cleaning Charm revealed a diamond ring, forged with intricate twists of sliver and a delicate band. There was no mistaking it. This was Ron's engagement ring.

"Ron! I found it!" Hermione said excitedly.

"You what?" Ron crawled over to her, doubt in his voice. "Are you sure it isn't something else?"

"I'm positive; I've never seen it before."

"Let me see." He held out a hand, and she dropped it, grinning.

"This is it, right?"

Ron stared incredulously, unable to believe his good fortune. Surely, someone was playing a cruel joke on him. Surely, this was _not_ the ring that he had bought for Hermione. Slowly, he examined the inside for the inscription that he had paid a fortune for Glaffen Jerid to write on the ring.

_Ron and Hermione. Forever._

Inscription present and accounted for. This was it. He laughed out loud, and pumped his fist in the air, exhilarated.

Hermione was beaming again. "This is it, right?" she repeated.

"Yes!" he shouted, grabbing her up in a fierce hug. "We're going to get married, 'Mione! We're not cursed!"

"I never thought we were cursed, Ron," Hermione informed him, wryly.

"I did! I thought-" he trailed off, deflating slightly. "Well, it doesn't matter what I thought. But who cares about that? We're getting married!"

She pulled away, and sank down onto the couch, marveling at her good fortune. _She was getting married!_

Suddenly, it sank in. And she burst into tears.

"We're getting married," she sobbed into her hands.

"Hermione…" Ron eyed her uneasily. "You're _happy_, right?"

"I'm happy!" she wailed. "These are happy tears!"

"Oh. Good to know."


End file.
